


The Last Targaryens

by chiquislover25



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Changes in Season 1, F/M, Fluff, Jon Knows he's a Targ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:35:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21553975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiquislover25/pseuds/chiquislover25
Summary: When he had left Castle Black he never thought he would return. But there was one person, the one man who had sent him down this path of life that he needed to see again. To prove to him that he had done it, that he had brought their family back together again.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 29
Kudos: 265





	The Last Targaryens

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone! So this is a short one-shot, something I wrote while procrastinating (no surprise there). A while back I saw a lovely picture of a similar scene occurring that someone had made/edited and it had always been in the back of my mind. And since I have taken it upon myself to write happy stories for myself and the fandom I decided to post it. I hope you all like it!

He watches as the Southern Gates open and he once again enters Castle Black. He had vowed never to return to this place but there was someone he needed to see again.

“Ah if it isn’t the bastard of Winterfell, the deserter,” the Lord Commander taunts as he dismounts his horse.

“I never said my vows. I'm no deserter,” he growls back helping his hooded companion off another horse.

“Keep telling yourself that, bastard,” the Commander answers. “I knew you had no business here then and you don’t have it now.”

“We're here to visit family,” he answers his arm wrapping around his companion.

“You’re Uncle Benjen has not returned since he left last, he’s probably dead boy.”

“It's not my Uncle Benjen, Alliser, we’re here to visit Maester Aemon,” he smirks.

“What could a Stark want with the last living Targaryen? Are you here to finish the Usurper’s and your treacherous father's work?" Thorne growls.

“As I told you before I'm not a Stark. Nor am I a kinslayer. My wife and I are here to visit our Great Uncle," he answers.

“Your wife?” Thorne asks.

His companion takes this as a cue to lower her hood, revealing her silver tresses. He hears gasps throughout the grounds. He feels glee at seeing Thorne’s gobsmacked face as the realization of who the "Bastard of Winterfell" has married.

“Ser Alliser Thorne, I’ve heard much about you from my husband,” his wife answers.

“My... my princess,” the man stumbles with his words, genuflecting to his wife.

“It’s Queen now, Ser Alliser. And although I will forever be grateful for your unwavering loyalty to House Targaryen, I'm a bit disappointed to hear how you treated my family member while he resided here,” she says, mustering all her regal power behind each word.

“Your Grace, we have treated Maester Aemon with the greatest care and respect…”

“I'm sure you have. But that is not the family member I speak of,” she says and he watches Thorne’s face fall into confusion. “Standing before you are the rightful Queen and King of the Seven Kingdoms. My husband happens to be my nephew, Aegon Targaryen Sixth of his Name, trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.”

Even more, awe comes upon the faces of those he once thought were going to be his sworn brothers.

“Now if you excuse us, we would appreciate being allowed to visit with OUR grand-uncle, it’s been a long and tiring journey,” he says to the men.

Thorne seems completely lost and unable to say anything. Another member is the one who steps up and informs them that Maester Aemon is in his quarters.

With his arm wrapped around her shoulders, he carefully guides his wife up the rickety steps towards the Maester's quarters. He knocks on the door and a frail voice bids them in. Together they enter the room and see the old maester laying in his bed.

He hears the intake of breath from his wife at seeing their Great Uncle in such a weakened state. He keeps her steady as she sways with pure emotion, careful not to disturb what is resting in her arms.

“Do my old ears deceive me?” the age withered voice speaks. “Or are those the steps of one once known as Jon Snow?”

A soft smile forms upon the wrinkled face of their Great Uncle as he steps towards him, leaving his wife to wait at the threshold.

“Aye, it is,” he sits down in the open chair at the maester's bedside and takes his aged hand in his. “It’s good to see you again, Maester Aemon.”

The old man reaches up and he allows him to map out his faces.

“You’ve become a man,” Aemon says.

“I should hope so, it has been a few years,” he answers as the man removes his hands.

“Did you find her?” the man asks hope and desperation lacing his voice.

He remembers the day his Great Uncle sent him on his journey.

_“I can’t stay here,” he said to the old Maester._

_“Then where do you wish to go? If the Crown finds out who you are, you will be in danger,” Aemon said._

_“What should I do then? Say my vows? Spend the rest of my days among thieves, rapists, and murderers? Give up the life I just recently found out I have a right to?!” he practically yells, startling the ravens in the rookery._

_“You are free to go. You were not sentenced here; you came here willingly,” his newly discovered kin reminded him._

_“But what should I do? I can’t go back to Winterfell. Only Starks belong there and we both now know I'm not a Stark.”_

_“That’s where you’re wrong,” Aemon said. “You are a Targaryen and you are a Stark. Your mother’s Stark blood kept you alive never forget that. They will always be your family and they will stand by you.”_

_“Even against their King?” he asked. “I'm sure Lady Stark would quickly hand me over. No Uncle, you’re the only family I have.”_

_“Not the only, there are others.”_

_“What?”_

_“Across the Narrow Sea, the two surviving children of Aerys and Rhaella live in exile, hiding from the assassins of Usurper, your Uncle and your Aunt. If not for my age and blindness I would have abandoned my post and gone after them, but I no longer can. I hate that I can’t be at their side when they need their family the most,” sadness laced his voice._

_He thought about that information for a moment before he spoke._

_“I can go. I can find them, make sure they’re safe,” he proposed._

And after planning and preparing, he began his journey to Essos to find what remained of his family. He had thankfully found them before Viserys could sell his sister to a Dothraki horse Lord. He and Dany had escaped one night taken gold and dragon eggs with them. They had traveled through Essos, eventually getting word that her brother had been killed. This was quickly followed by the news of Ned Stark’s imprisonment and subsequent death.

It was then decided between the two of them that it was time for their family to once again rule the Seven Kingdoms. They hatched the dragons, liberated the Unsullied, united the Dothraki under their leadership and managed to arrive back to Westeros to avoid Robb from being killed by the Freys and retaking Winterfell.

During that time, the unexpected happened… he fell in love with Dany. And by some miracle, she fell in love with him.

“He did, Uncle, he found me,” his wife answers from the door.

“Daenerys,” their great Uncle sighs in happiness and relief.

She approaches and Aemon's face brightens each time the floorboards creak with a step. He stands, offering his seat, but she refuses it with a simple shake of her head. Instead, she takes a seat on the edge of their Uncle’s bed taking care not to jostle him too much. With her free hand, she reaches for the aged hand and guides it to her face, cherishing the feel of another family member’s love and fighting back the tears of emotion. Their great uncle milky eyes also fill with tears as he maps out her face, feeling every Targaryen feature and remembering which family member it was descended from.

“You have my mother’s nose. Egg’s cheeks,” his voice trembled with emotion. “You’re eyes?”

“Violet,” she answers and the old Maester nods.

She then takes the ancient hand and guides it down to the small bundle in her arms. He can’t help but feel pride, joy, and love as he looks at the little bundle. A little hand reaches out meeting that of the Maester and grasping onto one of the trembling fingers.

He hears the gasping breath his great uncle intakes and the way it shakes as he releases it.

His own eyes water as he watches the realization come upon his Great Uncle as to what he is touching. A small babble comes out as well further cementing what it is his wife is holding.

“A babe?” Aemon’s voice trembles.

“Our son,” he tells him proudly, quickly wiping his tears. “The future of our House.”

Dany carefully moves the babe and places him into the Maester’s arms.

“Uncle we’d like to introduce you to your namesake,” she says softly her, voice wet with tears.

“Aemon Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone and future King of the Seven Kingdoms,” he announces.

The old man weeps, holding the babe close to his chest, attempting to coo at him through his tears of joy. His wife reaches towards his hand and interlaces their fingers. He places a kiss on the back of it and smiles at her, both cherishing this moment.

All Targaryens, the old holding the new, the survivors against all the odds.

They had so much to share with their Great Uncle including the dragons, so much more to do, but for now, this was enough for them, this was everything.

The Last Dragons, together at last.


End file.
